


Your presence still lingers here

by nofeartina



Series: Fic posts archived from tumblr [12]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sonja (briefly), archiving from nofeartina tumblr-blog, immortal!Even AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofeartina/pseuds/nofeartina
Summary: Even is immortal. Isak isn't.(Originally posted on Tumblr but moved for archiving)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted as it was written on Tumblr. It's 12 parts and all done so no need to worry about it being a wip. :) Part 1 was originally posted [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187140089859/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-1).
> 
> All the chapters have been betaed by the always lovely Colazitron. Thank you, babe! ❤
> 
> Enjoy!

“I really like your hair.”

It’s the first human interaction Even has had all night and he’s honestly a bit surprised that someone is talking to him. He knows that he’s not really friendly-looking standing here, especially since he’s not really putting any effort into it.

It’s like this for him – easier not to interact, to stand back and let the party happen around him, tuning out the small talk and drunken come-ons. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing new under the sun and never will be.

Especially this line.

“Thanks,” he says. He knows he should’ve changed it a while ago. Sometimes he’ll wear the same hairstyle for 60 years and won’t even notice how horribly outdated it is until someone points it out for him, or he’ll suddenly notice one day, finally looking at the people passing by in more than a hurried glance.

That’s always the hardest part for him – fitting in. Or rather, not sticking out.

Maybe he’s worn it so long this time that it’s started to become fashionable again. That wouldn’t be the first time either.

The guy leans in, smelling like booze and some kind of perfume, looking at Even with wide, open eyes. Trusting, naïve. Young. Even has met thousands of young men like him throughout the times and this one doesn’t look any different than the others.

Even watches him lick his lips, watches how his gaze lingers at Even’s, and Even’s so incredibly  _ bored _ by it. It’s been a couple of centuries since someone piqued his interest enough for a fuck, and this thinly disguised horniness isn’t really doing it for him.

“I’m not interested,” Even says before the guy can proposition him. He watches his face fall, watches his cheeks heat up, watches his eyes dart away from him to the side.

Ah. He really  _ is _ young, even by mortal standards. Clearly he’s not used to this and Even just shot him down. It’s enough to make Even feel a little bad.

He turns, angles his body more towards the guy, says, “I didn’t mean to be so harsh, I’m just not here for that.”

The guy nods, licks his lips again like it’s a nervous tick of his, glances at Even briefly before he looks away again.

“Yeah, I’m sure you must get that a lot.”

Even smiles.

And maybe it is a little bit rewarding to have the guy’s eyes widen at the sight of it, maybe it makes something inside Even stir like it’s fighting to come back alive after a too-long hibernation.

He sticks out his hand. “I’m Even.”

A pleased, shy smile spreads over the guy’s face, even as he takes Even’s hand. “Hi Even, I’m Isak.”

Isak.

Even’s always liked that name, has known too many people with variations of it for him not to like it. None of them important, just passing acquaintances.

Isak’s hand feels good in his, warm and dry and steady, his pulse jumping when the tip of Even’s forefinger slips up under his sleeve to feel out the thin skin of the inside of his wrist.

He’s so  _ alive _ . So much potential, so many futures ahead of him, so many things he doesn’t know yet. Things he’ll never know. But Even is aware of him now, watches how his curls lick along the sides of his snapback, how his shoulders are wide under his jacket, how his eyes are green.

Even always was weak for green-eyed blonds.

“What are you here for then?” Isak asks, clearly having caught Even staring, checking him out. He cocks his hip, raises his chin as his smile twists into a smirk. Maybe it’s coincidental, maybe it’s not. Maybe he actually knows the kind of image he makes like that – alluring, flirting,  _ challenging. _

Even’s body heats up, slowly coming alive with what Isak is offering.

He tilts his head, licks his lips, feels that old familiar rush when Isak’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue.

“You tell me.”

He moves closer, makes sure there’s no mistaking what he’s offering in return.

Isak stays, makes it so Even’s the one moving, surprising Even after how forward he’s been until now.

And when they finally kiss, he realizes why – Isak  _ is  _ new. All new. He’s eager and clumsy and shy, his skin warm under Even’s hands, but he’s also a fast learner. And when he presses Even against the wall, sucks on his tongue and moans, Even feels more alive than he has in a good, good while.

\--||--

Being immortal isn’t really what it’s cracked up to be.

Even has thought about this a lot, over the years, when there was really nothing else to do but think.

See, time might be linear, in theory, but it doesn’t work like that when you’ve been around long enough. Sometimes it feels like time is more circular, like if you wait long enough, people will make the same mistakes, the same catastrophes will hit, the same things will come into fashion. The same inventions will be made. And that kind of makes time move less linear and more… incohesive.

Even hardly notices the passing of time anymore. Or the people inhabiting the world with him at any given time. But he recognizes Isak immediately the next time he sees him and knows exactly how long it’s been since that night.

Just looking at Isak makes Even feel alive again, makes him remember every detail of that night like it happened only minutes ago and not 5 years.

He should be careful, should hold back, has been hurt by time so often that he’s not even sure that he can be hurt anymore. He should stay away. But it’s been so long since he’s felt anything but bored.

He only hesitates for a few more seconds before he gives in to the impulse to go to Isak. He doesn’t know what this is yet, but Isak feels anything but boring. Sometimes a little distraction is just what he needs to break the monotony of time. 

And he has a feeling Isak could be a great distraction.


	2. Chapter 2

His skin is so soft. Unblemished. Different than it was 5 years ago, but still familiar.

There’s nothing but smoothness as Even runs his fingers down Isak’s back, from the ball of his shoulder to his lower back. He spreads his fingers there, rests the palm of his hand on Isak’s spine, feeling Isak’s chest expand every time he takes a breath.

He’s still sleeping, face turned away. Arms up, duvet pooled low enough to be showing hints of what’s underneath. Isak is the loveliest thing, sleeping. He’s so calm, sleeps so quietly. Hardly moves. 

A total contrast to how Even sleeps, even after all these years, Even just can’t seem to keep still. That’s for when he’s awake, apparently.

Even’s eyes sweep over all that nakedness, over the small hairs on Isak’s back, on the slope of his shoulders, how he’s grown into them, filled out in ways his body only hinted at those years ago.

Even likes it. Likes how strong Isak is, how steady. How excited he still gets, even though it’s clear that time has had an effect on that too. There are hardly any snapbacks anymore, his curls kept in a shorter haircut now. Isak calls it more ‘manageable’ but Even still finds himself longing for the time with longer curls. For how they wrapped around his hats and snapbacks.

“You know, it’s a little bit creepy, you staring at me while I sleep.”

Isak’s voice is sleep-rough and gritty, and Even knows that if he was able to see it he’d find Isak’s eyes still closed.

He leans in and kisses what he can reach, in this case a bicep. Lets his lips linger there as he says, “I would never.”

Isak huffs in delight and finally turns his head to look at Even.

God, those eyes. The way he looks at Even, so open and happy and satisfied. Like Even is all he could ever want. It makes Even’s chest hurt, makes him swallow down his fears and the grief that’s constantly lingering just under his skin. Squeezing his heart.

“No?”

Isak’s eyes slide over Even’s face, taking him in, relearning him like he does every morning. Like he’s still surprised that Even is here, in his bed. That he’s stayed.

Even purses his lips, kisses his way up Isak’s arm, over his shoulder, until he reaches his face.

“Absolutely not,” he says against his lips before he closes the last remnants of distance between them and kisses Isak.

Isak’s lips fit against his, fit in a way that make Even lose his train of thought, makes him focus on the moment, on Isak, in a way few things do. Isak kisses him lazily, the taste and feel of him slowly seeping into Even, leaving traces there that Even is sure he’ll never be able to erase.

He reluctantly leaves Isak’s mouth, pushes against his body until Isak rolls onto his side and they touch from shoulder to belly to toes. He rests his head in the crook of Isak’s throat and waits for him to put his arms around him like he always does.

The sound of Isak’s heart is loud in his ears when he’s this close. The smell of his skin addicting. The circle of his arms protecting, easing, calming. Even could spend eternity lying like this.

And he knows how long eternity is.

Isak’s hand strokes down his back, long soothing strokes, like he understands that sometimes Even gets overwhelmed by these small, domestic, calm moments. Like they’re almost harder for Even to handle than the big over-the-top gestures; the dancing and the laughing and the fucking.

Even knows that these moments are the ones that linger the longest, that hurt the most.

He closes his eyes and breathes. Hopes that Isak’s calmness will spread, will make him calm too. Breathes until his eyes aren’t wet anymore and Isak is twitching to get out of bed. There are always limitations to their interactions.

Isak is still here with him, young and vibrant, happy. Even should enjoy it, shouldn’t let his mind drift to the inevitable end. He doesn’t want Isak to be a lingering memory. But years and years and  _ years  _ of experience have taught him one thing - there’s nothing he can do about it.

It’s only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part was originally posted [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187193334849/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-2).


	3. Chapter 3

"Sometimes it's like I don't really know you."

Even's not sure what brought about this change of mood, but Isak looks somber now, a million miles away from the easy smile he just wore. 

"What do you mean?" 

Isak leans up on his elbow and looks down at Even, eyes dark and mouth still swollen. They're both still cooling down. Even was expecting Isak to pull him in for a snuggle like he always does after, before they fall asleep. 

"I mean, I know what makes you smile, I know how you taste, I know how you feel inside." His eyes glance down Even's body, down to where he's still tender and dripping. Even swallows hard against how Isak looking at him like that makes him feel, mingled with the dread rising in him. "But I don't know anything about you. Who you are, where you come from. What are your parents' names? Where did you go to school? Where were you born?"

Even sits up, can’t stand lying there naked and vulnerable when having this conversation. Isak sits up too.

He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry, which Even would almost prefer. Isak sounds curious, almost hurt by Even not letting him in.

He’s making Even feel like shit, remorse and shame churning in his chest.

“I’ve never even met any of your friends, even though you’ve met mine. And I know that it’s not a competition, I know that it’s not ‘I show you mine so now show me yours’. But…”

And Even is obviously making him feel like shit too.

Even moves closer, needs to touch, needs to soothe. He didn’t realize how much he was hurting Isak by not letting him in. But there’s just no way that he can, not if he wants to keep Isak. Even puts his hand on Isak’s shoulder, tentatively, waiting for Isak to push it off, happy when Isak doesn’t.

He moves even closer, enough that he can put his lips right next to his hand, his other arm around Isak, pressing their bodies close.

“Are you ashamed of me, Even?” Isak asks, voice small and low.

It’s like a physical blow to the gut, like a sudden ache that explodes in his belly and works its way through his body until it’s like he can’t breathe from it.

“No,” he manages to croak out. “No, Isak. God, no. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long while.”

Isak turns his head until he can catch Even’s eyes. “Then what is it? Why are you so secretive?”

Even purses his lips and kisses Isak, breaks their eye contact because he can’t stand lying to Isak while being this close. It’s hard to figure out what to say. It’s not like this is the first time he’s been in this situation, hardly. But this is the first time that it’s  _ mattered _ quite this much.

Somehow, when Even wasn’t paying attention, Isak fought his way into his heart and made room for himself there. Even isn’t sure what his heart is going to be like without Isak there.

He’s not sure he’s ready to find out. That he’ll ever be ready. 

Which is why he should probably leave now. Cut his losses before they become too great. If only he wasn’t so selfish. With Isak so close, his heat bleeding into Even, the taste of his sweat on Even’s lips, the firmness of his body under Even’s arms, it’s impossible to push him away.

“I don’t have many friends.”

“What?” Isak turns in his arms, makes Even’s grip on him lessen. “I don’t believe that.”

Even smiles, he knows it’s not a happy smile but it softens the harshness in Isak’s eyes.

“Well, I’ve moved a lot,”  _ truth  _ “and it can be hard keeping in contact with people when you’re far apart.”  _ truth _ “It’s not easy for me to make friends,”  _ lie  _ “but I try to keep in touch with the ones I do have.”  _ lie _ “I’m not ashamed of you,”  _ truth  _ “but I just don’t have that many people for you to meet.”  _ lie _

“Okay,” Isak says, strokes his hand over Even’s fingers and squeezes gently. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re really not, I guess I just kinda didn’t think about it. I  _ want _ you to meet them.”

Isak nods, leans in and kisses Even, a kiss that leaves his heart achy and raw. Makes him feel guilty.

“Great. I can’t wait to meet them.”

Isak looks so genuinely happy, like this was a bigger thing for him than he let Even know. Bigger than Even could really understand. Even wants to do this for him, though, wants to make him happy and feel safe. He knows there’s a limit to their time together and he’ll never be able to change that no matter how much he wants to, but he can certainly do this.

Isak pulls him in and tips over until they’re lying down again. He shuffles until they fit together and no matter how many times Even experiences it he will never get over how well they  _ fit  _ together. It doesn’t take long for Isak’s breath to even out, calm obviously restored by Even’s words and actions. But Even can’t sleep.

There aren’t many of his kind left. Immortality is a difficult concept even for the strongest of hearts. A few of those left he would consider friends and even fewer than those he’d consider family. He hasn’t seen them in a while.

But for Isak he’ll find them. It’s the least he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for part 3 can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187309055614/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-3).


	4. Chapter 4

It’s good seeing Mikael again.

Even’s not sure exactly how long it’s been, but Mikael looks radiant and happy to see him too. To see them.

“So you’re Even’s boyfriend,” Mikael says and shakes Isak’s hand, and Even appreciates him turning on the charm. He knows how much time has affected Mikael, understands how close he’s come to losing him to it, but there’s no trace of that weariness on his face now.

“I guess I am,” Isak answers and glances at Even with a little color on his cheeks. He looks happy too.

Even wants him to look like that forever.

\--||--

It’s weird seeing them together, seeing those two parts of his life collide. It’s oddly pleasing, he finds. 

Isak is chatty, probably a bit tipsy from the wine they’re drinking, his hand slowly working its way up higher and higher on Even’s thigh in a way that’s proving very distracting to Even, but is probably entirely coincidental on Isak’s behalf.

“How long have you known Even?” Isak asks, takes a sip of the wine that’s painting his lips red and inviting. 

“Oh, for something that feels like an eternity. I’m probably one of his oldest friends.”

“So you met at school?”

“Something like that,” Mikael answers, smiles over the tip of his glass at Even and Even can’t help but smile back.

Isak looks between them, reservation creeping into his smile. 

“You’re just as secretive as Even is.”

Mikael laughs, like he’s trying to lift Isak’s mood, and says, “Maybe we’re just part of a witness protection program. Maybe we’re not allowed to tell you anything about our old lives.”

Isak shakes his head, but his smile is more real now. He likes Mikael teasing him. Even can’t help but put his hand over Isak’s on his thigh, squeeze it a bit.

“You’re both incorrigible.”

Isak squeezes back.

\--||--

“Are you gonna tell him?”

Mikael has waited until they’re alone to ask, until Isak had excused himself to go to the bathroom, even though Even knows he’s been dying to ask.

Even sighs and shakes his head.

Mikael sounds disappointed when he says, “Even…” Like Even is a child misbehaving.

Even looks away. 

“I can’t see him leave you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. He loves you Even, that’s clear as day.” He reaches over, takes Even’s hand, touches him for the first time in what’s probably a century. “And you care about him.”

At this Even looks up at him. “I don’t--”

Mikael pats his hand and then pulls back. “You do.”

Even looks away again. The bar is loud enough that he knows no one's paying attention to them, no one’s seeing how Mikael looks at him and he just knows what Mikael is going to say next.

“I could show him. I still remember how to do it, I could make him--”

“No!”

Mikael sighs and that just makes Even angrier. They’ve had this discussion so many times already and Mikael keeps refusing to be reasonable.

“It would still be his choice,” Mikael says.

Even leans forward, does his best to keep his voice down so they don’t attract attention. “Except it wouldn’t. Isak is curious and wonderful, but he wouldn’t understand what he’d be giving up.”

“So you don’t want to ask him because you’re afraid he’d say yes?” 

“I’ll never ask anyone to give up their mortality for me. You know-- Mikael, you know why. I can’t--” Even’s anger peeters out as he talks, until it’s completely replaced with something close to pleading. If anybody should understand this it’s Mikael. He’s almost as old as Even.

Mikael leans back, looks at Even with pity in his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t agree but Even can see that he understands.

“You love him.”

Even feels like a deer caught in headlights. Mikael sounds so sure, sure of something that Even has been too afraid to ask himself, too afraid of what the answer would mean.

He can’t. He can’t love again, he can’t  _ lose _ again. For all the times he’s loved, the pain that follows is unbearable. He doesn’t want to feel it again, can’t feel it again. 

He promised himself that he was never going to do that to himself again.

Isak sits down next to him, leans in, kisses right next to Even’s slack mouth, oblivious to Even’s turmoil. Says, “What did I miss?” and takes another sip of his wine.

And Even realizes. 

Loving Isak never was a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for part 4 can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187446078914/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-4).


	5. Chapter 5

Sunday afternoons. 

Even's always thought they were a bit magical. It doesn't matter if it's because he's spending this one on Isak's couch, his head in his lap as Isak idly strokes his hair. Or if they're out walking, holding hands, the novelty of being able to do that making Even giddy over and over again. Or when their dinner is bubbling on the stove, tendering the meat and vegetables into something Even already knows will make Isak moan in pleasure. 

He likes it when Isak moans in pleasure. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch a western," Isak complains.

Even even likes it when Isak's complaining. 

"Shh, you're missing the best part." 

"Ugh, John Wayne. Is he really the best part?" 

Even just shushes him again and hides his smile in Isak's thigh. 

"He's the epitome of machismo - shoot the Indians and get the woman." 

"Yeah, but that's kind of the amusing part, in real life most of the cowboys were gay. Guess Hollywood missed that part." 

Isak huffs out a laugh, pulls playfully at Even's hair. "You say that like it’s something you know."

"I  _ do _ know. It's so weird how history changes things and has made cowboys into these machismo, as you call them, stereotypes." 

The hand in his hair stills, but Even doesn't really pay attention to it, too busy mouthing along to the next lines to notice much else.

In hindsight, he really wishes he had paid attention to it. 

\--||--

Another Sunday afternoon. Everything is so hot, the sweat covering their skin easing the slide of their bodies against each other.

“You always feel so good,” Even whispers into the narrow space between their mouths. He’s overwhelmed by how tight and warm and wet Isak is inside, how accommodating. How he looks at Even during, eyes half-lidded and dark, lips swollen and mouth slack. He’s like sin incarnate. 

Even feels sure that this is what all those religious people throughout time meant when they said sin corrupts. 

Even certainly feels corrupted by Isak.

“Even,” Isak sighs, lips so close that Even can taste his breath on his tongue.

He just wants this, wants to keep them, keep Isak, forever. The inevitability of the outcome of their affair threatens to take him out of the moment and Even fights it, pushes deeper, harder, takes hold of Isak’s leg to spread him more, to make it easier for him to bury himself so deep inside that his mind stops working.

“Even,” Isak says again, hand stroking over Even’s cheek, thumb brushing over his lips, pulling him down until his lips are covering Even’s.

Isak’s mouth manages to do what his body didn’t - distracts him enough that Even can refocus back on the moment, can forget everything else but the burning need simmering under his skin.

And then it’s easy to just give himself over to it.

After, when it’s done and they’re still sweaty and filthy and  _ wonderful,  _ Even still lying half on top of Isak, too lazy to move or do anything but lie here. Isak’s hand is drawing a trail on Even’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, making Even feel so good that he’s practically purring. That’s when Isak makes his move.

“Even?” he asks, hesitant and shaky, like he’s gearing up to ask Even something that he knows he won’t like.

Even tenses, can’t help it. But he still  _ hmms, _ letting Isak know that he can continue.

“I-- I don’t know how to ask you this.”

Even  _ hmms _ again, pulls Isak closer, savoring as much as possible while he still can.

“Is something wrong?” Isak finally asks.

Even is pretty sure that that’s not really what Isak wants to ask him, Isak is  _ smart, _ and Even hasn’t been as careful as he should’ve been. But Even would rather have this question over anything else.

“No,” he says, tips his head so he can look up at Isak. Isak is already looking down at him, like he was waiting for Even to catch up.

“It’s just-- you seem so sad sometimes. Right in the middle of things, like right now while we were having sex. It’s like I’m... losing you.”

Isak  _ is _ smart. More intuitive than Even has given him credit for, it would seem.

Even gets up on his elbow, smooths his hand over Isak’s cheek and looks him in the eye.

Isak is right of course. He  _ is  _ losing him. Like Even is losing him. Slowly, day by day, hour by hour, second by second they’re creeping closer to the inescapable end. Another death, another love lost. This one improbably more painful than most others, this one sure to stay with Even for a long, long time. Longer than he wants to think about right now.

He leans in, kisses Isak, gently, lovingly, closes his eyes and wishes for it to be different. That he would be able to share his secrets with Isak and ask him to stay with him forever. But he can’t. He  _ can’t. _ He could never be that selfish.

“Isak,” he whispers, enjoys how the name fits in his mouth, tastes on his tongue. Revels in how it still makes him feel happy and whole when he knows there’ll be a time where uttering that name alone will fill him with pain and grief. “I love you.”

Isak whimpers, pulls Even closer, wraps himself around Even like that act alone could remove Even’s sadness.

“I love you too,” Isak whispers back and Even could cry. Knows that he’s going to spend the rest of eternity equally elated and shamed by those words.

So he pulls Isak tighter, closer and closer and closer, until it’s almost like they’re one.

And then he whispers, “I’ll love you forever.”

No promise has ever been easier to make and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll keep it.

He’ll never forget Isak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for part 5 can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187552176209/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-5).


	6. Chapter 6

He knows it’s time to make a choice.

He’s ignored it for too long, has deliberately looked away from Isak’s prying eyes and the things he’s not saying. Like maybe Isak is dragging it out, maybe he’s trying to ignore it too.

Isak is 26 today, surrounded by friends and family, blowing out the candles on his cake to the chorus of loud cheering from everyone. His cheeks are tinged red with being the center of attention, even though Even knows he loves it. The atmosphere in the room is warm and cozy and so full of love that Even almost chokes on it. He looks at Isak, takes him in, tries to commit him to memory as much as he can. He knows that this is a memory he will cherish.

And then Isak looks up at him, no pause, no hesitation - he seeks out Even like he’s the only one he wants to look at in the room, smile big on his face, curls framing his face, eyes sparkling with joy and love.

Even swallows hard, his throat dry and raw, his eyes prickling. He tries to smile, tries to stay in the moment and show Isak how happy he is for him, how wonderful he thinks he is. How much he deserves to be surrounded by love like this.

But the moment he sees Isak’s smile freeze he knows he doesn’t manage to.

Isak keeps looking at him through the throngs of people, keeps his eyes on Even like he’s afraid Even will disappear if he doesn’t, smile slowly sliding off his face replaced by something else entirely. Something he shouldn’t carry on his face on a day like today. 

Something that Even doesn’t want to acknowledge.

It’s Even who breaks the eye contact, turns around and heads into the kitchen, reaches for a beer in the fridge and takes a long pull of it. It’s better in the kitchen, the music is muted, the room is dark. He’s alone.

He stays there for too long. Feels excluded, like he’s already hovering on the fringes of society, so easy to discard and leave behind.

Isak was 16 when they first kissed. 

He’s very different now, all grown up. He grew into those hands and those shoulders, grew out of the soft curves of his face and the lingering innocence in his eyes. Grew into a man instead. A man who takes Even’s hand at night in bed, a man who always makes Even a cup of coffee too when he’s making one for himself. A man who remembers to bring a scarf when Even forgets, because he knows that Even always forgets.

A man who Even loves, so dearly, so desperately. 

Even just knows that Isak’s beauty will stay with him as he ages. That he’ll have distinguished laugh lines by his mouth, crows feet by his eyes. A testament to how much he’ll smile and laugh. What kind of life he’ll live. That Isak’s beard and hair will start turning grey at some point, only adding to the allure of him. That his body will deteriorate and skin start blemishing, but it’ll be okay. 

Even wants that for him, wants him to age and feel the toll of time in a natural way, would never wish for him to experience his children dying before him, his loved ones disappearing. How slow time can feel when you have too much of it. 

Even’s just not sure if he can stay for it, if he can watch Isak fade away like that. Just seeing how much he’s changed in the years they’ve known each other fills Even with sadness and grief, too well-versed in what follows.

They’ve known each other almost 10 years now, it’s only a matter of time before Isak starts noticing and questioning why Even hasn’t aged at all. Why he still looks like he did when they met. Why he hasn’t grown into his shoulders or gotten better at growing a beard. The older Isak gets the more obvious it becomes.

Isak’s probably already put two and two together, has probably already figured  _ something _ out. Even can’t be sure, but the way Isak watches him from time to time makes him suspect that it’s only a matter of time now.

“Even?” 

Isak is standing in the doorway, startling Even out of his musings.

Even puts the beer down, smiles and goes to Isak to kiss him, quickly, what’s supposed to be a quick hello-peck on the lips. But Isak puts his hand on Even’s cheek, makes sure he doesn’t go anywhere as he deepens the kiss, licks into Even’s mouth until all Even can taste is beer and cake and  _ Isak _ .

When Isak finally pulls away he leans his forehead against Even’s. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Even smiles and takes Isak’s hand, squeezes it. “I just needed some quiet.”

“Are you alright?”

Even nods, nuzzles his nose against Isak’s nose, a sudden pang of loss at how it’s not quite as soft as it used to be. He grew out of that too.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. Tonight’s your night. Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”

“You sure?” Isak pulls away far enough that he can look Even in the eyes and Even does what he can to make his eyes and smile soft and convincing. 

He kisses Isak again, slaps him on the ass as he leaves and laughs when Isak curses him. But as soon as Isak is gone the smile slips right off his face. 

Even has a choice to make.

He just hopes it’s the right one he’ll make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post of this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187626155574/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-6). And now, we're halfway there! :)


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re leaving, aren’t you.”

It’s not really a question, no matter how much Even would like it to be. Isak just sounds tired and resigned, doesn’t even look at Even as he says it.

Even wishes Isak would look at him while doing this, would ask him instead of already being so sure. No matter how right he is.

“I wish with everything I have that I didn’t have to.”

Isak scoffs, glances at Even briefly before his eyes settle on whatever is outside the window. Maybe it’s the trees, Isak did always like looking at the life just outside their apartment.

“Nobody is forcing you. You don’t  _ have  _ to leave me, you’re choosing to.”

Even takes a step closer, wants to reach out and touch Isak, feel his warmth and the comfort that he brings. Wants to put his arms around him and offer some comfort back, but he understands that Isak wouldn’t appreciate him doing that right now. Even almost can’t see Isak’s face, covered in shadow from the street lights outside. Their apartment is cold and dark like Isak has been standing like this for hours waiting for Even to come home.

“I wish I could stay with you forever.”

Isak finally turns towards him, arms crossed, face contorted with anger making Even take a step back with the force of it.

“You’ve always kept me at bay, never let me in. And now you’re leaving me and you won’t even do me the courtesy of telling me why; you just give me these empty words like you think they will actually mean something to me.” Isak’s heavy breathing is the only thing breaking the silence in the apartment. “Tell me  _ why,  _ goddammit! I deserve to know, Even!”

Even’s heart is breaking, his ribcage imploding. There’s no room inside him, everything is shattering and he puts his arms around himself like he’s trying to hold it all in place. 

“I wish I could, Isak.” 

But that only seems to rile Isak up further. “Fuck off, of course you can. Is it-- you can just tell me if it’s something I did. Or I don’t know, something I didn’t do.” Isak’s voice breaks as he talks, his anger petering out with every word until his body slumps and he looks on the verge of crying instead. “Am I not enough?”

Even reaches out but Isak shies away from him and it’s like a physical ache to not be able to touch Isak. But he understands, knows that he just has to get used to that now - not being able to touch Isak. He’s not really his to touch anymore.

“It’s never been about you, you’re perfect--”

“Don’t give me that ‘It’s not you, it’s me’-crap. I don’t buy it.” Isak steps close, puts his hands on Even’s upper arms and shakes him a bit in desperation. “Just tell me!”

“I can’t--”

“Is it because you still look exactly the same as you did when we met?”

Even freezes. His mouth is open but no sounds escape him, no words form in his brain. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t care about that, I don’t want you to use it as an excuse to leave me.”

Even finally manages to make his mouth work. “It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason.”

“What are you?”

“Old.”

“What do you mean? How old?”

Even shakes his head and Isak groans in annoyance. “You’re so…” He turns away from Even, hands fisted at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t believe, that even now, even when you’re on the verge of leaving me, you still won’t give me any answers. I should be happy that you’re leaving, that I’ll be able to find someone where I don’t have to go digging for answers I’ll never get. Someone who’ll maybe let me in and let me be part of them and their lives and their families. Someone who’ll talk to me.” The last few words are sobbed, forced out like they’re pulled from Isak’s chest carrying his pain and Even can’t stand that he’s doing this to Isak. That he’s causing him so much grief.

He should’ve never let himself begin this. He really is the most selfish person in the world.

He puts his arms around Isak, holds him close, ignores how Isak keeps his arms between them instead of hugging Even back as he cries. 

“I’m sorry.”

Isak sniffs and pulls away from Even’s arms, away from Even. He looks at him, straight in the eyes, not wavering even once. He’s formidable, so beautiful and perfect and brave. 

“I don’t believe you,” he says. 

Every word feels like a knife cutting deep, turning and twisting in his heart and his gut, ripping him from inside. 

Destroying him.

“If you’re gonna leave, then leave.” Isak’s chin is held high even as he says those words, the way he looks at Even with disdain, like he’s daring him to. Like he’s expecting him to, but hoping he won’t.

Even looks at him for a few long seconds, words drifting through his mind, carrying the meaning of everything he wants to say, everything he wishes he could share with Isak. Committing this Isak to his memory; his tears and his anger and his pain.

Even did this. Even deserves this.

He needs to remember so he’ll never make the same mistake again. So he’ll know never to love again. 

He steps away from Isak, into their bedroom, not terribly surprised to find the bag he packed earlier on the bed. With a heavy heart he picks it up.

He stops when he’s at the front door, hand on the handle. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really am sorry.” His eyes are fixed on the wood in front of him, he can’t turn around and look at Isak crying. “I love you, Isak.”

Isak doesn’t answer but Even can feel his eyes on his back as he opens the door and leaves.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for part 7 can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187753771604/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-7). Oh, and I hope you're ready for the pain. *evil laughter*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late-ish post. Today has been a day, but at least there are still a few hours left of Wednesday so I'm not too late. ;)

Even regrets leaving the second he closes the door behind him.

He regrets it when he’s boarding the plane and he’s still regretting it when he’s opening the shutters and windows in his small cottage, letting in fresh air and sunlight. 

He overlooks the ocean and the beach, hears the sounds of the waves and the birds. But he doesn’t really take any of it in. His mind is too full to perceive anything but how every beat of his heart seems to fill him with more anguish.

It takes Mikael less than an hour to show up. Even hasn’t moved from the window, still staring at the ocean, frowning at the sun. Sweat starting to form on his body. Mikael shakes his head when he sees him. Looks as disappointed as Even feels.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

Even can’t believe it either.

“You should’ve told him. You should’ve given him the choice.”

It’s always been that easy for Mikael. He moves forward, keeps moving forward, doesn’t dwell on the past like Even does. He certainly agrees on the ambiguity of immortality but he’s not weighed down by it like Even is. In all the years Even’s known Mikael, he’s never been as close to ending it as Even has been. Even doesn’t really expect him to understand. 

Mikael sighs at Even’s silence, probably knows just what’s going through Even’s mind, and then finally comes to him. Stands next to Even, shoulder to shoulder, overlooking the ocean too.

“You can still change your mind,” he says, because of course that’s what he says.

“No. I can’t.”

Mikael sighs again, but at least he stays with Even for longer than Even expected him to.

It feels good not to be alone right now.

\--||--

The days pass slowly. 

It doesn’t get easier or better, but time still passes.

Even spends his time inside with most of the shutters closed. Doesn’t care for the sun and the happy screams coming from the beach. Most days he doesn’t even really understand why he keeps coming here, why this is the place he always goes to, when he doesn’t really feel like being part of the living. Each day passes like the previous one. He’s crippled by pain and grief, immobilized by doubt and contrition.

His regret doesn’t lessen or ease up.

It’s a yoke, constantly weighing on him, constantly making him doubt and question himself. He loathes this uncertainty in himself, hates being paralyzed, staying put, drenched in his own fears.

He should know better, should do better. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before, learned to overcome a lost love, learned to move on, live through it. Learned that time usually does make things easier, no matter how good a memory you have.

But every day he pictures Isak lying there next to him in his bed, sees him sitting across the room at the table, leg folded up under him as he reads a book, imagines him pausing to look up at Even and smile. That good smile. The one that makes him all soft to look at, the one he only smiles at Even.

Fuck.

The entire cottage feels like a memorial to Isak. He’s never been there, but he still saturates every room with his love and his care, with his smiles and his curls and his eyes that burn holes in Even’s back every time he turns away from him.

No matter how much he tries, he can’t forget about Isak.

Mikael comes by from time to time, forces him out of the bed, sometimes even out into the sun. Makes him eat and drink. Plants an espresso in his hand, the aroma so filling that Even is actually able to focus on something other than his torment for once.

“Have you even noticed I’ve been away?” Mikael asks, exasperated and maybe even a bit angry.

Even doesn’t answer, he hasn’t used his voice much lately.

A long pause later, Mikael says, “Please ask me about it. Please just-- do something, Even. You’re worrying me.”

Even tears his eyes away from the waves crashing onto the shore, away from the perfect imagery he’s barely seeing, to finally look at Mikael.

“I’ll be alright. I just need to move past this.” His voice is hoarse to the point where it’s almost uncomfortable to use. Enough so that it makes Even wonder how long it’s actually been.

Mikael moves closer, takes Even’s hand and looks him straight in the eye.

“Maybe there’s no moving past this. Maybe you should consider that you’ve made a mistake this time. While you still can.”

Even clenches his eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

Mikael sighs. “Don’t take too long to figure it out, Even. You know I’m right. You know that this time is different. I can see it on you, you’ve never been this bad.”

Even sniffs, wipes his eyes and his nose, opens his eyes again to look at the ocean.

“I’ll be alright.”

Mikael pulls back, pulls away from Even with a sigh, his disappointment tangible between them.

“I’ll be alright,” Even repeats.

Someday surely, saying that won’t feel like a lie.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187797649714/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-8).


	9. Chapter 9

It’s weird getting up from the bed. His joints pop and groan, his body’s stiff with disuse.

It makes him wonder how long he’s been lying there, staring at the ceiling interrupted by bouts of sleep. He quickly dismisses the thought, though. He can’t deal with that right now.

At least he’s getting out of bed.

There’s an ache in his chest that doesn’t let up. A phantom pain at his side like he keeps expecting someone to be there. The quiet discomfort of how it feels to interrupt himself when he wants to speak because he realizes that the person he wants to speak to isn’t there.

It seems that time doesn’t heal every wound. Not this one at least. 

He stands in front of his mirror. Looks at himself. Really looks. Sees the redness of his eyes, the bags marring his face, how pale and gray he looks. He has a beard now, a shabby, ugly one; no form or sense to it, just hairs sort of growing in the same direction in the vicinity of each other.

Nothing like Isak’s beard.

Isak. 

Just thinking that name makes him double over, grabbing on to the edge of the sink and breathing deeply through the wave of grief washing over him. Leaving everything barren in its wake.

It still feels so raw, so fresh. When he wants to he still remembers Isak’s laugh, what the mole closest to his right ear felt like to touch. How the texture of his hair felt against the tips of Even’s fingers. How his skin smelled after sex, after a shower, late at night when they were falling asleep.

He still remembers the way Isak looked at him. All soft and tender and caring, like Even was worth so much. Worth Isak’s love. 

Even straightens, eyes returning to the image in front of him in the mirror.

When he moves his hands he leaves two palmprints behind, the sink white where he touched it, a stark contrast from the gray covering the rest of it. He stares at it for a while, doesn’t quite comprehend what he’s seeing. Through the mirror, he looks at the state of his bedroom, how a couple of books lie on his commode; Soya and Karen Blixen. How on the armchair, a pair of socks lies discarded. Three empty glasses and four mugs line his bed table. 

He’s not sure when he used any of these items.

He turns away from the mirror, eyes resting on the bed, the urge to go back loud enough that it’s all he can do to ignore it. It would be so easy. To lie there and think of Isak, pretending not to. Willing himself to forget when all he wants to do is remember. Listening to the music of the ocean, desperately wanting to share it with someone. Share it with Isak.

Imagining what it would be like.

Imagining how much more alive he would feel if he did.

Has he made a mistake?

His mind keeps returning to this question. Asking himself over and over and over, the pauses between that thought growing shorter with each passing day.

Has he? Is he really meant to spend eternity alone? Is anyone?

Should he have told Isak?

He stops himself there. He didn’t. He didn’t and he missed the opportunity to and Isak was so angry when Even left. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with him.

And yet...

A growing sense of urgency has been filling him. A rising restlessness, that's finally forced him from his bed, made his feet move over the dirty floor until he’s standing here, overlooking his room. He turns again. Looks at himself in the mirror and knows he has a decision to make.

\--||--

“You’re up!” Mikael says surprised, entering his bedroom without knocking.

Even knows that he’s been by to check on him, but he can’t quite remember when he last acknowledged him as he did. 

He does now, silently glancing at him through the mirror as he slowly but surely fills the sink with hair from his beard.

Mikael doesn’t seem surprised by Even’s lack of words, stays. Watches him put down the scissors and pick up the razor instead. Watches him through the mirror as Even’s face slowly emerges, leaving behind fresh, pinkish skin. 

Even feels better now that he’s showered, now that he’s starting to recognize himself in the mirror. His hair is too long, but he’s not going to cut it himself and he’s certainly not going to ask Mikael to cut it for him either. 

Not now. Not when he’s finally made his choice.

He gets dressed, slowly, still trying to find his footing even though the shower helped with the stiffness. He ignores Mikael as he goes through the motions, the routines of getting ready a familiar comfort that he readily settles into.

It’s not until he grabs his bag and starts throwing clothes into it that Mikael talks again.

“You’re leaving?”

Even doesn’t pause, zips up his bag, certain that if he’s forgotten something he’ll just buy it when he gets there.

“Yeah, I have a mistake to correct.”

“Even, don’t--” but Even interrupts Mikael, doesn’t want to hear how he should eat or wait before leaving.

“I need to do this now or I’m afraid I’ll never leave that bed again.”

Mikael takes a step towards him, arms out like he’s trying to subdue Even, saying, “No, Even, listen--”

But Even doesn’t want to listen, he says, “Don’t stop me. I need to do this.” And then he turns to leave before Mikael can say anything else.

There’s a calmness outside his cottage. An ease within him as his restlessness finally subsides. The sun is shining, the waves are crashing onto the beach. Everything is as it should be. 

Even goes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187877906279/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-9). Only one week left until it's done now! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Something’s wrong.

He’s felt it in each step, in each passing moment, the unease rising in him.

Everything’s off, feels different in a way that’s hard to put his finger on. Maybe it’s how people look and talk, their styles of hair and clothes different enough from the last time he was in a bigger city.

Maybe it’s how people look at him, weirdly, like he’s out of place.

It makes him want to cover, makes him want to hide. From their eyes, from the otherness, from how unexpected this is.

How long did he spend mourning? How much time did he waste in that bed when he could have spent it with Isak?

He tries to push it from his mind, tries to ignore the unease creeping up on him. He’s starting to suspect what it was that Mikael tried to tell him, but he still won’t consider what that could actually mean for him. For Isak.

No. He’s going after Isak. Now. Today. He can’t wait anymore, no matter what.

He doesn’t linger outside the shop, just heads in, the ring of the bell above the door a comfort in its familiarity.

“Even!” Sonja says surprised, eyes quickly scanning him from head to toe in the exact same way she’s always done. A way that still drives him up the wall, even after all these years. “God, you look horrible.” She smiles as she says it, to ease the blow, but there’s no question that she means it.

“Thanks,” he says, without the kind of fire he normally would. He cuts to the chase instead, not interested in catching up with her. “I need papers. I need to go to Oslo.”

“Okay,” she says, dragging the a as he hands her his passport.

She looks at it and then him, eyes squinting and forehead folding into a worried frown.

“This is quite old. Why didn’t you keep it updated?” Her attention quickly changes back to his passport, she’s turning around to put it into something that looks like a scanner. “You know it’s harder for me when it’s expired.”

Every part of Even breaks out in sweat, cold and clammy, it makes his clothes stick to his body and make him stink in seconds.

“How old?”

She turns, smiling, opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something but stops herself when she looks at Even. Her smile falls and that frown returns to her forehead.

“Even.” 

He  _ hates _ when she says his name like that; infused with pity and sympathy. Like she still has a right to, a right to him. It immediately brings him back to when they were together, when that was the way she said his name all the time. He doesn’t want her comfort. Hasn’t wanted anything from her for a very long time.

“Just tell me, Sonja. What year is this?”

She shifts from one foot to the other, glances over his shoulder at the street outside the window, before she takes a deep breath, eyes returning to his.

The number she gives him doesn’t make sense. Even’s in free fall, like the floor under him gives out and there’s nothing to catch him. His legs feel weak, the air seeps from his lungs on a long, excruciating, loud exhale that he’s sure Sonja must hear. He has to hold on to the counter to keep standing, to feel even a little bit grounded.

“What?”

His voice is thin, broken. The word barely audible even to him.

Sonja doesn’t repeat herself, just says “Even,” again in that way that she does and Even knows has to get out of there. He needs fresh air, needs to be able to breathe again. 

He scrambles to the street, ignores her concern as he turns his back on her. 

There’s nothing he needs in that shop anymore. Especially with Sonja saying his name like that.

The sun is warm on his face, people around him chattering peacefully as they pass him, life moving on like everything is normal. How dare they. How dare the world not collapse with him when everything that mattered to him, the dream he had for his eternity, has just fallen out of his reach.

He moves down the street, somehow in a daze makes it to a park where he collapses onto a bench. He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t notice anything around him. Nothing matters.

Nothing matters.

His mind is a blur, thoughts and emotions whirling in his head, expanding with every passing second until it’s almost enough to drown out how his heart is shattering inside his chest. It’s a physical pain, a pressure in his chest, a sluggishness to how his heart is somehow still beating. The realization lies like a heavy lump of ice in his stomach.

He’s too late.

He’s too late.

-

-

-

He’s too late.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/187985368114/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-10).


	11. Chapter 11

Defeat.

Nothing else exists in the world.

He’s failed. He’s failed Isak, himself. The future he had started to believe in, hope for. 

He doesn’t even cry, so empty, his inside’s a black hole sucking the life and essence out of everything around him. Including himself. Where his mind was a blur of emotions and thoughts, everything is now quiet. He’s so overcome that he can’t even  _ think  _ anymore.

There’s no way out of this, no way to salvage the damage he’s done. The mistakes that he's made. If there’s one thing his long age has taught him it’s that there’s no going back. No do-overs. Only these pinpricks of time where everything matters, where everything is on the line, and if you don’t realize it, you lose.

So. Defeat.

He lost.

The moment has passed. The small window of time where he should have acted lost forever in a bed in a cottage in Greece, avoiding life when he should’ve been basking in it.

What use is immortality if you’re not living?

\--||--

“Even?” 

The voice is soft, familiar. Not judging or assessing, although there might be a hint of pity somewhere in there. Even’s doesn’t really care anymore. People can pity him all they want, he deserves nothing more. He’s pitiable.

Someone sits down next to him, touches his hair, his shoulder. Says his name again, more worried this time.

Even hasn’t moved for a good while. Has sat there, on that bench, a statue of despair. Scarcely noticing the sun rising and setting, over and over and over again.

Once again he has no concept of time, no grasp of how many days he’s spent here. His entire body is stiff, hard to move. His eyes feel like sandpaper, his skin dry and uncomfortable. In a herculean effort he focuses, moves his face and his eyes towards the person sitting next to him, but even though he’s staring right at him it takes him a while to wake enough to recognize him. 

“Mikael?”

Mikael’s eyes are soft, understanding. He knows, he sees what Even has realized. He touches Even’s hair again in a rare gesture of comfort.

“We need to get some water and food in you, Even.” He adds in a whisper. “Don’t give up just yet.”

Even blinks. He doesn’t really want to go with Mikael, doesn’t want to do anything but sit here. He’s still so empty inside, a void so big that he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to fill it again.

“He’s gone,” Even finally says, voice rough and rusty. It hurts to talk, but it’s what he deserves. So he adds, “I was too late.”

“Even, please…” Mikael pleads, touches his hair again. “Don’t give up. Let me help you.”

Even’s never heard Mikael talk to him like this. Mikael isn’t a coddler, Mikael is the one that kicks him out of bed, tells him he’s being ridiculous. If he’s this worried, Even must be in really bad shape.

Good.

“You’re too late.” 

And then he looks away from Mikael, already settling back to staring out into nothing. Sitting still, letting the world move on around him. 

“No, Even!!” Mikael shakes him, forces Even to refocus on him. “Don’t do this!! Fucking fight it, come back to us. Nothing is ever too late.”

And maybe it’s watching Mikael filled with anger and despair over him, maybe it’s that show of life, of care, that finally makes something stir inside Even’s chest. A small sliver of warmth, of something else than emptiness and nothingness.

Even blinks again. Eyes slowly moving over his surroundings, finally noticing the park he’s sitting in, the people moving around them, the sun beating down on him, harshly, unforgivably. 

Mikael stands up, hand reaching out towards Even. “Now come on. Come with me.”

And then silence. Mikael’s hand stays, he’s leaving it up to Even. 

Even’s mind slowly comes back online. He notices the color of Mikael’s skin, the veins running up his arm. The hair on his fingers and back of his hand. Even looks up at Mikael, squints against the sun, considers.

And then finally - reaches out and takes Mikael’s hand.

\--||--

Even eats. Eats until he’s too full to move, belly sloshing with water and sustenance, forcing him to stay still for a while. He stares at Mikael all the way through it, watches as Mikael keeps piling food onto his plate, keeps filling his glass with water. Keeps urging him to continue. 

“You need a shower,” Mikael says as Even gets into his car a while later. “But that can wait. Right now, we just need to get you home. I have a surprise for you.”

Even stares out the window while he hums in assent. He barely understands what Mikael is telling him with how full he is, how overwhelmingly fast the blood is flowing in his veins again, refilling his body with life, quickening the beat of his heart. 

He’s not sure he wants it, not sure he even likes it right now. He’d almost gotten used to the sluggishness of his heartbeat, the way he barely even needed to breathe. But he knows better. Knows that if he really wants to end this, that’s not the way to do it. 

The landscape rushes by him unnoticed as they drive, Mikael’s chattering quickly becoming white noise in the background, the gentle rocking of the car a soothing motion that helps him settle. Helps him focus on not slipping away again.

And then they’re there. Mikael stops the car. Stays still with his hands on the steering wheel, tension rolling off him in waves.

“Before you get out I have something to tell you.”

He sounds nervous, apprehensive, both such rare things to experience in Mikael that he gets Even’s attention even through the haze.

“I’ve… done something. Something I should’ve talked to you about beforehand.” He glances at Even from the corner of his eye for a brief second before his eyes fall on the front door of Even’s cottage. “I really hope you won’t hate me for this.”

“What do you mean?” Even croaks out.

Mikael nods towards Even’s cottage, diverting Even’s attention.

Even’s eyes slowly move from Mikael’s profile, his heart rate rising in his chest, body filling with an excited tension he wasn’t even sure he could still feel. In the split second it takes for him to turn his head and move his gaze he fills with a hope he can’t quench.

He freezes. Stops breathing for a few longs seconds, mouth opening in disbelief. He can’t quite understand what he’s seeing, wonders if maybe it’s a dream.

And then he breathes in - a long, free inhale like he hasn’t been able to for a very long time. The fresh air floods his brain, bringing new kinds of emotions with it. Relief. Blooming elation.

He opens the car door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/188068539854/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-11).
> 
> Only one more chapter to go!! :O


	12. Chapter 12

It’s only ten steps.

Ten small steps, over in seconds. In theory. In practice, it feels like Even has been walking forever, every roll of his feet slow and syrupy, like he’s not really getting anywhere.

Isak is standing there, hands in his pockets, looking at Even in a way Even can’t quite figure out. Sure, there’s a small smile playing on his lips, a gleam in his eyes. But there’s no full-on grin, no coming to meet Even in the middle.

Isak stands still. Waits for Even to come to him, and that makes Even nervous. Makes Even realize that the ideas he had for a reunion, the fantasies, maybe won’t come true. It’s possible that he simply neglected to deal with the fact that Isak was quite angry with him the last time they saw each other.

Maybe he’s still angry.

It doesn’t matter, Even decides. It just doesn’t. He’ll convince Isak to forgive him, he has to. It must mean something that Isak came all this way to see him. And God. Even almost can’t understand it. Isak looks so good. So radiant and young and perfect. Like something out of Even’s dreams.

He still doesn’t quite understand how it’s possible. 

A small eternity later Even finally reaches Isak. They stand there, opposite each other, the silence stretching between them. Even’s hands are in his pockets as well, an awkward mirror of Isak.

Even rolls on his feet, the silence grating on him, reminding him of all the things he’s already said to Isak so many times in his mind. Why is it so hard now that he’s actually here?

“I’m sorry,” Even says. He’s got to start with that. 

“No,  _ I’m _ sorry,” Isak says, leans a bit closer. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”

“I deserved it. I should’ve trusted you.”

Isak smiles at that, a small fond smile, eyes sliding over Even’s face like a soft caress until they land on his lips. 

“You should’ve.”

And that makes Even smile too.

\--||--

Isak sits there on his patio, looks out over the ocean, eyes following the crashing waves. Illuminated by the sun, his long lashes cast shadows down his cheeks.

He’s so beautiful, Even can’t take his eyes off him.

The chair creaks under Even as he moves, tries to find a way to sit that doesn’t make it painfully obvious to him just how long he’s been sitting still recently. 

It doesn’t work. There’s no such position. But it doesn’t make him get up, he just wants to sit there, staring at Isak for a while longer. For eternity.

“I was a mess after you left,” Isak says, voice quiet and somber. Every word stings at Even’s heart. “I knew I was never going to see you again and I regretted what I said to you the second I’d said it.”

Even nods, even though Isak can’t see it. He’s still looking out over the ocean. 

A small drop falls down from Even’s hair, running a tickling line down his back until it’s soaked up by his t-shirt. Even didn’t have time to dry off properly after the quick shower he just had, too afraid that Isak was only some mirage that he’d dreamed up, that he would disappear the moment Even took his eyes off him.

“I was a mess too after I left. I came straight here and…” Even swallows, his voice running out when Isak finally turns to look at him. It’s electrifying to suddenly have all of Isak’s attention, those green eyes focusing on him. He feels like a coward when he looks down at his hands instead of looking back. 

It’s too much. Isak is here, he’s finally, actually here, ready to listen to what Even has to say. And Even wants to tell him so much, wants to tell him  _ everything _ , that it makes him tongue-tied. He doesn’t know where to start.

Isak clears his throat, makes Even look back up at him. 

“Mikael told me you weren’t doing well.” 

Even wants to cower away from how heavy Isak’s gaze is on him, how it’s probably taking in how thin he is, how lifeless his hair and skin is. Everything about him is dull, the complete opposite of Isak.

Isak’s glowing in the sun, hair shining like gold, skin tanned and freckled. Taken straight out of Even’s deepest fantasies.

He’s every bit how Even remembers him.

“I should’ve been the one to ask you to become immortal,” Even whispers.

Isak shakes his head, smiles. “No. I’m glad it wasn’t you. I needed to decide on my own.”

It hurts but there’s a truth to it that Even can’t deny.

“Mikael found me pretty soon after you left, I can’t really remember exactly when; it was so many years ago now. He told me all the things you wouldn’t, explained it to me, gave me the choice.” Isak pauses here, leans forward like he wants to get closer. “It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

“No?”

Isak shakes his head.

“I want to be with you,” he says. Like it’s that easy.

Even swallows hard. It’s hard to stay stoic faced with a vulnerability like that. “And I want to be with you.”

Isak lights up in a big smile, relief painting his every feature, contagious in his joy. Even smiles too, smiles more than he has in years and years and years.

Since he last was with Isak.

“Ask me anything,” he says and means it. For the first time, he really means it.

“Anything?” Isak asks, incredulous but playful. Of course he doesn’t trust Even, not with how he’s treated him. Not with how he’s pushed him aside, kept himself and the truth hidden from him over and over and over again.

There’s a lot of trust there for Even to rebuild.

He’ll do it, one question at a time, one truth at a time. Whatever and whenever. He knows he will, he’ll spend the rest of eternity earning Isak’s trust back if he has to.

And for the first time, he knows he won’t spend it alone. For the first time, he looks forward to it, to endless days and nights with Isak. Images are running through his mind, filling him with hope and warmth; waking up next to Isak, kissing him while grocery shopping, holding hands while taking a walk, intertwined on their bed, lost in each other. Just… living.

With Isak there is no other choice, no other possibility. No one else Even could ever imagine spending forever with. 

So he smiles, reaches for Isak’s hand and answers, “Anything.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post for this chapter can be found [here](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/post/188131198914/your-presence-still-lingers-here-part-12-last).
> 
> Last chapter you guys!! Thank you all for reading, both here and on tumblr, you're all amazing and have made writing and posting this so much fun. 😘😘

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be posted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. 
> 
> Even though this was posted on Tumblr originally, kudos and comments still make me a very happy camper. 😉❤
> 
> I'm [nofeartina](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come play. :)


End file.
